


Of Angels And Demons

by tequilatuesdays



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Angel/Demon Sex, Angels, Blood and Torture, Dark, Demons, Gore, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 21:44:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18290831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tequilatuesdays/pseuds/tequilatuesdays
Summary: When he opened his eyes, the boy was smiling contentedly, unaware of the avalanche of emotions he had just set off in the man.Sudden bursts of adrenaline shot through his body, lust mixing with rage.He had to have this boy.





	Of Angels And Demons

The boy lay face down on the stone altar. 

The cold surface felt harsh against his frail body, metal shackles cutting into the delicate skin around his wrists and ankles.  
Exhausted from the torture his head hung heavy over the edge of the table, a tendril of snot dangling from his nose, tears still falling from his tired eyes.  
Tears of broken purity and soiled innocence, tears of destroyed beauty and shattered trust. Annihilation of unconditional love. 

Never had he felt such pain, any pain, in his life. 

He had long stopped screaming, no use. No one would hear him down here. And the only person he wanted him to hear wouldn't listen, ignored him, reveled in his stifled whimpers and desperate pleas to stop. The only person he wanted to hear him was the very person torturing him, taking great pleasure in each feather plucked from his wings and every single cut and slash of his flesh. Blood flowed from the gashing wounds, trickling down his creamy skin and pooling around his body, fresh mixing with old, sticky and cold. 

The vile pungence made him want to vomit. 

 

The boy used to carry himself with confidence, honest countenance and a natural curiosity that would never fade. Bright eyed and forthright, walking through this life spreading nothing but love.  
Everyone would be enchanted, not only by his exceptional beauty, but his kind and gentle essence, his openness towards new experiences. He exuded a unique soft-spokenness that would leave others craving for more of his voice.  
The way the words would roll of his tongue and how his lips would twist and curl around each syllable left them breathless and wanting to trace his mouth with their fingers.

His hair was shiny, dark, and fell in waves onto his forehead. He would tuck it behind his ears from time to time. An endearing habit people loved him for.  
His body was dainty, yet graceful. Slender, toned legs, a narrow waist and concave belly, strong arms barely covered with hair, his fingers long and elegant.

The boy's skin was milky, almost translucent, a stark contrast to his naturally red lips.  
His presence lingered for hours after he left the room and those lucky enough to talk to him would forever be fascinated by his free spirit and bold heart.

An ethereal being, fairy-like.

Oblivious to the dangers of his candor, he would soon attract the awareness of a being so evil, that the devil himself was scared of his spawn. 

The boy would be broken in no time.

 

The man was his polar opposite in every way imaginable.  
Caged by his dark desires for too long, filled with a wanton hunger for sin and an insatiable need to feel worshiped, he set out to find his next victim. 

He was brutal in nature, towering over almost every other being, with brought shoulders and strong arms. His expression always unreadable, jaw tense and gaze fixed forward.  
Icy blue eyes, stern and cold, not a speck of warmth or kindness hiding behind long lashes. His automated movements made him look unapproachable, aloof.  
When he sat, his body remained stiff, hands resting on his thighs.  
Whenever he was spoken to, he would raise one eyebrow, slightly turn his head into the direction of the poor soul addressing him and stare at them until they either left, intimidated, or were brave enough to continue to strike up a conversation.  
It never took him long to decide whether they suited his needs. Whether they were pliable, gullible enough and easily swayed by him.  
Nothing could make his heart beat faster than making others squirm and applying pressure to make them give him what he desired most - breaking their will to resist him, falling prey to his often perverse games of seduction and manipulation.

His lust for murder and destruction could never be sated.  
He slew whole families and feasted on their blood; sent plagues into the countries that had just survived war, spread droughts and destroyed fields which caused famine and wiped out entire cities.

Feared and hated by all of the other hellish creatures, an outcast among outcasts who fed on other people's pain and misery. 

 

He met the boy at a gathering for Gods and mortals. 

The Gods were given trophies, were showered with praise and attention. The mortals were allowed in the general vicinity of the Gods for one night and felt special when seen, sometimes even spoken to by the higher beings.

The man sat off to the side, scanning the crowds for his next victim. 

His gaze fell upon the boy, who stood surrounded by a group of Gods, all smiles, heads tilted to one side, adoringly looking at him like every word from his mouth caressed their faces and made them swoon.  
He was instantly struck my his angelic features. Soft, porcelain like skin, emerald eyes with flecks of gold. An immediate tightness in his groin made him feel uneasy but fueled his determination to approach the boy.

He got up and walked towards the group gathering around him. He moved in long strides, feet planted with confidence until he reached them, pushing through the crowd, shoving at their bodies and stopping right in front of the boy. 

He was met with a disarming smile and was instantly drawn into his energetic, passionate nature. 

The boy's name felt good in his mouth, foreign, exotic almost. He would only speak it once, then never again. 

Soon the group surrounding them faded one by one, disappearing into the crowd, until it was only the two of them, lost deep in conversation.  
The man was charming, witty. The boy carefully listened to every word, answered passionately. 

Hours went by, wine flowed like water and was greedily devoured by the two of them. 

Destructive desire spread through the man's body like an all consuming fire whenever the boy smiled or laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners, white teeth shining in the semi-darkness of the huge ballroom.  
Every now and then the boy's hand would come to rest on the man's thigh, lingering there for a short second, removed too soon.  
The man ached to be touched again, his skin burning with a sensation he had never known before. His pulse quickened and he felt his blood rush through his body when the boy leaned forward in his chair, his face impossibly close to his. 

He could smell the innocence the boy exuded. An impossibly alluring scent that encaptured all of the man's senses. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, when suddenly he felt the boy's tongue brush against his lips. 

 

When he opened his eyes, the boy was smiling contentedly, unaware of the avalanche of emotions he had just set off in the man.

Sudden bursts of adrenaline shot through his body, lust mixing with rage.

He had to have this boy. 

The anticipation had his heart racing. He could almost taste the boy's tears on his tongue, hear his desperate screams, feel the stickiness of blood on his fingertips. It made him feel warm and achy between his legs, an impossible tightness he needed to care of.  
He adjusted himself, leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette, inhaled a sharp breath, exhaled, and blew the smoke directly at the boy's face with an evil smirk.

 

A snap of the finger later and the boy found himself surrounded by darkness and stinging cold.  
He was overcome with a feeling of terror and confusion, whip lashed from the sudden change of environment. The sounds of the ballroom still rang in his ears; the laughter, the soft music in the background, the chatter of excited voices.

The boy felt dizzy, nauseous. The freezing cold had him shivering violently. He managed to stagger a couple of steps before his legs gave out and he collapsed on the ground. 

He could feel himself slip into unconsciousness, almost welcomed it. Anything was better than this. 

 

A searing pain shot through his entire body and he jolted awake with a panicked cry.  
He was stripped bare and shackled to a stone altar, face down, legs spread apart, his body pressed against the cold, solid rock.  
Disorientated and unable to move, panic rose in him. He tried to make sense of his surroundings, writhing around within the confines of the heavy metal weighing him down. His terrified cries so loud, they echoed through the darkness. 

The man stood at the far end of the altar, naked, hands covered in blood with bits of feather stuck to his fingers. An evil grin spread across his face; the louder the boy's screams, the wider his smile grew. 

His icy blue eyes changed into the deepest black as he continued to slice into the boy's body. Each strike of the blade left a deep gash on his flawless, milky white skin. Thin streams of red ran down his thighs and pooled between his legs, his cock nestling in the wet, sticky warmth of his own blood.  
Exhausted and lightheaded, the boy slipped in and out of consciousness.  
His beautiful face painfully contorted by hours of torture, red and swollen. His emerald eyes were vacant, almost ghostly and kept rolling back into his skull. They were drained of all the magic they once held.

The man stepped back from the altar to admire his work. 

The sight of the broken boy made his mouth water and his cock throb.  
His fragile body blood-smeared, hair wet with sweat, sticking flat to his head – gone were those innocent curls that framed his immaculate face. His majestic wings, once made of long, pearly white feathers were snapped off like twigs from a dead tree.  
The man climbed onto the altar, straddled the boy's thighs and sat down on him with his full weight.  
He dragged his hands over his bare back, nails skimming the already open skin. He dug his fingers in deep, tearing the wounds even more. The pained screams made him even harder and he was aching for release.

A faint whimper tore from the boy's throat as he felt the man enter his body. 

Soon enough he would take his last breath. 

 

And the man would be there to steal it from his mouth.


End file.
